


Le Vent Nous Portera (The Wind Will Carry Us)

by earlgreytae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Canon, Confessions, Exchange Stundents, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, M/M, Parental Death, SPN Holiday Reverse Mini Bang, Some angst, Story based on artwork, Underage Drinking, Universes Colliding, artwork included, french!Cas, french!Eileen, season 9 ep 6, set in France
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 22:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14435910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreytae/pseuds/earlgreytae
Summary: Déjà-vu: the feeling of already experiencing something. Usually, this can happen every now and then. However, having it occur every few days can start to get slightly concerning for the young teenage Dean. Especially, when they keep telling him that he fights monsters in alternate universe, with his annoying kid brother and French exchange partner, who, in fact, is actually angel of the lord. Yes, really not that normal.A story of teenage love confessions and French kite festivals.





	Le Vent Nous Portera (The Wind Will Carry Us)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> This is my submission to this reverse bang.  
> I've worked hard on it so I hope you enjoy it. :)  
> I'd like to say a massive thank you to @saawek on tumblr for creating the lovely artwork, as the inspiration to this story.  
> And also to my lovely beta @franthewhovian on tumblr, for sifting through my spelling mistakes XD 
> 
> Disclaimer: Both Cas and Dean are 18 and only drink a few beers, but I wanted to tag it so for any American readers.

_J’ai déjà vu ça._

 

“I have…already seen this?” Sam stumbled, desperately trying pretend that he could pass this exam.

 

“Seen what?” his frankly annoying, older brother questioned, turning his head from his video game to stare out of the nearest window in search for something interesting Sam may of spotted.

 

Sam stared back at him for a few seconds with a confused expression, before double-taking the window and his work in front of him. “Nothing stupid,” he replied, causing Dean to jerk back to his game quickly.

 

“Watch it,” he snapped back, awkwardly brushing it off.

 

“Yeah whatever,” Sam joked, returning back to the endless struggle that seemed to be the French language. A few minutes passed, before Sam could sense Dean’s presence looming over him. He quickly turned back to him.

 

“What do you want now?” he called, startling Dean once again.

 

“I was just wondering what you’re doing,” he scoffed, shoving Sam slightly on the shoulder.

 

“French. I know really _intriguing_ for you,” Sam responded trying to push Dean away. He frankly didn’t have time for his mischief today.

 

“Hey!” Dean quickly retorted back, “I like French! I think it’s important to speak another language,” he added rather lamely.

 

Sam death stared him back, “well that’s on the list of ‘bullshit I’ve heard from you’.”

 

“Shut up,” Dean mumbled, before sulking back onto the sofa.

 

For the brothers, school was an almost polar experience. For the most time, Sam loved it. He’d always had a passion for learning and often found classes easy. At first, he was rather shy around others. Although, he slowly but surely built his confidence up, especially now they didn’t have the stress of moving every five months. He’d finally found some proper friends, that he knew he could keep. The teachers even respected him, often advocating him to keep his good work up.

 

_“Keep this up Sam and you could go to Stanford!”_

 

Of course, there were times that Sam would prefer to forget; like the onslaught of bullies in eighth grade who would pick on him because he was small ( _they were in for a big surprise during the years that followed)_ or his several childhood crushes that got literally crushed when their Dad would take them away to another unexplored state. Nevertheless, Sam could get over those small things and, in all honesty, his last year of high school had been of been one of the best years of his life so far. _Despite the awful cliché,_ as his older brother would remark.

 

Whereas, for Dean school wasn’t so rosy. In fact, it was rather grey. Learning just seemed to be an itch that he couldn’t reach. Every time he felt as if he’d actually might be interested in a subject, his brain just wouldn’t compute or his Dad would pull them away from the school. He would pretend that he didn’t care. His Dad was his idol; a real man, who drove a black muscle car and blared out Led Zeppelin whenever he pleaded. He didn’t need to worry about school work, and anyway his Dad had everything planned out for him already. Once he was eighteen, he’d join the family business.

 

_Saving people-_

 

_What?_

 

Dean shook his head slightly to remove the dizzy feeling that had overcome him, before he tried to return to his thoughts. Ah yes, the perks of school. The only thing Dean actually enjoyed throughout his high school career: the girls and the partying. One advantage of being carted around America every month was the fact you could get with any girl you pleased. Dean could pull the ‘mysterious card’ and be gone within a week. It was perfect.

 

Well at least he convinced himself so.

 

He tended to block out the envious two-am thoughts, where his mind would tell him that he actually wanted to be as driven and as clever as Sam. Sam, who actually had a chance to make something of his life. Sam, who could attend Stanford, get a good job, a nice house with a white-picket fence and, most importantly, make Mom proud. _Perhaps that was the thing Dean craved the most._

 

Like always, although, Dean would move on from these feelings quickly. Bury them deep in drink and partying. Follow in his Father’s footsteps, he guessed.

 

However, life has an awful tendency to break you down when you least expected it. It was hard for Dean to comprehend that the accident had happened a year ago now. It had been a whole twelve months since he heard the news that burst his little carefree bubble.

 

_“I’m afraid to inform you that your Father has been seriously injured in a road accident.”_

 

_“He may only have a few weeks to live.”_

 

_“Yes, he was under the influence of alcohol.”_

 

The sight of his father, the epitome of everything Dean thought he wanted to be, laying weak and broken in paper white sheets carved its way into his mind permanently. The recurring, late-night, memory of the doctor telling him and Sam that their father was no longer with them. The sickening image of their Mother’s distraught face doused in tears. Those things changed Dean most definitely; some may even say for the better.

 

No longer was his life a simple as he’d pretended. No longer did Dean have a stable job in front of him. His Mother was now the only one that gave them stable income. What was he supposed to become? He didn’t even know what his favourite subject was, let alone figuring out what he wanted to do with his fucking life.

 

All he knew what that things were going to rapidly change for him and small family.

 

_Also that he wouldn’t dare touch alcohol again._

 

After the initial few grieving months, their family had somehow managed to pull through and make it work. Mary had decided to take on her nursing job full-time and so they finally settled in one town. The sleepy, slightly stagnant midwestern town of Lawrence, Kansas.

 

They’d managed to scrape together enough money for what seemed nothing more than a wooden box with a porch.

 

Nevertheless, it was home.

 

 _It almost felt familiar in a odd way,_ Dean thought.

 

Therefore, they’d reached where they were. Sam and Dean had a somewhat stable life in the local high school, and their mother would wear away at the local hospital. Sam had managed to make some strong friends and was aiming for Stanford in leap and bounds. Dean had stopped his partying lifestyle and managed to scrape through into college. There  would always be rebound days, it was without doubt. Some mornings, Sam would wake up with a dizzy head and tear stained cheeks, after suffering from a distant memory of his father returning to him in a childish dream. Other evenings, Mary would come back late to find Dean sprawled out upon the floor in a fit of grieving rage. Things weren’t perfect, far from, but somehow it worked. In some way, they had found a calm state of solace, in the whirlwind that had seemed to be their childhood since then.

 

So much so that on one breezy day in April, Dean had decided to sign Sam and himself up for their school’s exchange. To France, of course.

*

 

Dean had just settled himself down by Benny in the canteen, and was struggling with the packaging to his milkshake straw, before his bean-little brother came avidly rushing over.

 

He looked up to him, spotting his excited expression and sheet of paper that he was waving about the air animatedly.

 

“Dean? Why am I signed up to this?” he called, sliding into the seat opposite his older brother.

 

“I don’t know,” Dean replied nonchalantly, with a small grin upon his face, “maybe the question you should be asking is ‘why _my_ name is _also_ on that list?’,” he added jokingly.

 

Sam looked at him strangely for a second, before double taking the form clasped in his palm.

“Okay- what?” he responded, shooting his head up to meet Dean’s eyes.

 

“It’ll be fun,” Dean laughed back, before adding, “and like I told you already, _‘learning a language is important’_.”

 

You could say that Sam and his brother didn’t always have the best of relationships. For the majority of his childhood Dean would either wind him up endlessly or simply pretend that Sam wasn’t there. This would often lead to them never really talking to each other, and in turn never ever confiding in each other. Sam just viewed Dean as everything his father wanted him to be, and frankly that annoyed him. Of course, he loved his father, but he didn’t have the same relationship with him as he did to his mother. He found his obsessive _‘manly’_ traits irritating, especially when it came to the drink. He could help but think that his brother was being wasted on trying to live up to them. Sam was a firm believer in trying your hardest to be yourself. That way, he believed, you could achieve the most.

 

In the end, these traits had been the death of his father, and Sam dealt with that through anger. Anger at the world for letting him act that way. Anger at his father for being so, for pushing those paths onto his older brother. The one that was supposed to protect _him_ , not the other way around.

 

However, against many of Sam’s misconceptions, his brother had dealt with their Father’s loss in a much more emotional way than anyone really expected. Dean had decided to completely block out everything that associated himself with his Father, including the drink. He swapped Tracey’s party down the road for extra Physics revision, and copious amounts of beer on Friday night, for a warm cup of tea whilst he played GTA.

 

_Sam realised that perhaps he didn’t know his brother at all._

 

Despite this, through Dean’s switch, it seemed that their relationship began to flourish. Sam could talk to Dean more openly now. He could actually hold a conversation with him without Dean labelling him a ‘wimp’. He learned more about his brother  in those few months, than he had in his whole upbringing so far.

 

Since then, it would appear that they become almost inseparable. Dean had made it his duty to protect Sam at all costs, and Sam made sure to talk to Dean about how he was feeling regularly.

 

Sam glanced back down to the form still clutched in his hands.

 

_Maybe Dean did have good ideas from time to time._

 

*

 

“You did what?” Mary called, agitation raising in her voice as she scrambled around the kitchen in search for a mixing bowl.

 

“Mom, it’s fine- I’m eighteen now I can look after Sammy for a fortnight-” Dean huffed back, raking a hand through his hair nervously.

 

“Yes I know you can,” Mary interrupted, sighing as she finally found the bowl in the back of the cupboard, “but what about the cost Dean?” she added, turning to face her oldest son, who bashfully standing opposite her. “I can barely manage to keep up now, let alone you two going off to France on top!” she stated.

 

Dean looked towards his toes, before sighing and looking back up to his mother’s eyeline, “I’ll sort it out, trust me,” he replied, before turning back to his room.

 

It wasn’t often that Dean became obsessed with succeeding. In all honesty, he never really had a motive for anything. Life was some sort of clear cut path that he would easy follow without much thought. However, recently he felt this strong need to _experience_ something. He knew that Sam had been taking his French studies very seriously lately, so when he saw the sign up form for the exchange, it seemed almost perfect. Sam would be able to improve his French and Dean would be able to have a completely new experience. He also secretly wished to make up some lost sibling time with Sam, that he constantly felt like he’d washed away for the longest time.

 

Howbeit, there was one slight problem, which Mary being Mary spotted almost instantly. _The cost of such trip._ Dean wasn’t stupid, he knew that it would be expensive, but some naive part of his mind hoped that maybe the school or Mary would partially fund it. Of course, he wishes were never meant to be and Dean found himself $1000 short. He knew he had about $1500 saved before, which he was originally going to spend on a overcompensating motorbike, but sense had convinced them it was best spent on this trip instead.

 

Long story short, Dean had now found himself working three part time jobs in a desperate measure to make $1000 in two months. Not impossible, but also not pleasant. Especially, when one of them was working behind the bar at the local gay club.

 

It was the only one with vacancies.

 

Dean had done intermittent bar work before, so roughly knew what he was doing. However, no one told him that he would be hit on by at least six slightly drunk guys by quarter past eleven.

 

And if he was frankly honest, it had left him more confused than anything else.

 

Dean has always had a small inking that he liked guys as well as girls. From the small crushes on the male protagonists in his cartoons to his uncontrollable dreams. As he got older, the realisation got stronger and therefore harder to ignore. Although, he always pushed it down. He knew his Father would despise it and he couldn’t stand losing his respect. Looking back on it now, he understood how toxic it was, but yet he still couldn’t seem to let go of his habits. He knew that his Mother and Sam would support him no matter what, but there was still a part of him that wanted to block it all out and pretend that it didn’t exist. That way he wouldn’t need to worry about it.

 

_Sam always told him it was the worst way to cope with it._

 

_Why was Sam always so right?_

 

So, having a ton of guys hitting on you suddenly was quite a shock. Part of him was determined to think nothing of it; barmen get hit on all the time right? It was obviously just part of the job. But, the other, frankly stronger, half of him wanted to accept it, enjoy it. He wanted to just experience what it was like to _be_ with a guy.

 

Yes, these two months were going to be hard.

 

*

 

“Dean! Dean!” Sam called with a hurried tone, “We’re going to be late! Get up lazy ass,” he added shoving Dean’s side slightly.

 

Dean smacked his lips together slightly, before groaning and turning to face his younger brother, “Alright, alright. I get it. Now leave me to wake up properly, otherwise I’m going to be groggy the whole way there,” he added, whilst rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

 

“You can just sleep on the plane!” Sam called back, throwing an unwanted t-shirt in Dean’s direction.

 

 _He was way too excited about this,_ Dean decided, before sighing and sludging towards the bathroom.

 

Somehow, after many boring afternoons tutting behind Lawrence’s local library counter, many weekend ordeals with rude Target customers and many sexaully confusing nights serving multicoloured cocktails, had payed off. Quite literally. Him and Sam were set off to the North of France, for a fortnight.

 

Dean wouldn’t admit it, but he was also rather excited by the time they were on their flight to Paris. He’d even done some research about the local area. The school had informed them that were to stay in small Northern town, of Berck-sur-mer. The weather didn’t seem too special, but Dean didn’t mind too much. He was mostly excited to go on the beach, as he’d never properly visited one- well unless you call Long Island a beach (it was more of just an American dream hotspot for classic entertainment). Dean had even read about a traditional kite flying festival that they held in the area each year, which just so happened to be held on their last weekend in France.

 

‘Perhaps, we could visit?’ Dean thought idly, before prying his attention back to his cartoon.

 

*

 

Once they’d landed in Paris, Dean’s first thought was just how _different_ Europe was to America. The streets were packed with rushing cars and bustling bourgeoisie-styled boutiques. There seemed to be people everywhere; all squished into what seemed like such a small place. The buildings were a patchwork of traditional, romantic architecture mixed with modern faces of concrete and glass. The whole place just felt so _alive._ Kansas had never felt so sleepy.

 

However, the brothers soon discovered the quiet beauty of the French countryside once they boarded their train towards the town of _Berck._

 

Compared to the acres of flat, corn-filled fields of Kansas, France was almost idyllic. Dean could make out large, green rolling hills in the blur of the train window, and, towards the end of their journey, the deep blue expanse of the sea.

 

They quickly changed onto the smaller local lined train that closer the sea’s edge. It was a slower journey than the flashy TGV they’d caught before, and the seats were fraying slightly from years of use, but it didn’t matter to the brothers. Excitement was started to flow through their veins at an increasing rate, as they stared with awe at the coastal views.

 

 _This was definitely a good idea,_ Sam thought, quickly tugging at his camera lens and snapping a few shots before they arrived the station.

 

The town was nowhere near as packed as Paris had been, but it still seemed to have an air of energy about it. The weather was surprisingly pleasant for the beginning of April, and there were even a few go getters hitting the beach. The main street was lined with a few small, independent shops and cafes, as well as your common supermarket. There was even a rather impressive selection of art galleries to visit.

 

Dean sighed slightly as he drew in the surroundings. He was still trying to adjust the complete change in culture, taking time to look closely at the large shuttered windows that adorned most of the houses above the shops. Meanwhile, Sam had finished avidly taking pictures and was fumbling with his phone.

 

“I’m going to call them, and let them know we’re here,” he called towards Dean, pulling him out of his minor trance.

 

“Call who?” Dean replied ignorantly.

 

“Our exchange family, dumbass!” Sam tutted, before typing the number into his phone.

“They said they’d meet us here, didn’t they?” Dean questioned, rummaging through his backpack in search for the documents concerning the arrangements.

 

Sam looked over to his brother, withholding ringing the phone quite yet. Dean suddenly pulled out a slightly crumpled sheet of paper, and scanned over the details. “See,” Dean stated to Sam pointing towards the text, “‘We’ll meet you outside the train station’-” he added before Sam sighed heavily.

 

“What?” Dean gawked.

 

“So you’re telling me that we struggled our way all the way to the main street, only for you to turn around and tell me that we needed to meet them by the train station instead,” Sam sighed, grabbing onto his suitcase and starting to wheel it back towards the station.

 

“Hey!” Dean called rushing towards him, “I’m pretty sure it was _your_ idea to go take some photographs of the scenery,” Dean protested.

 

“Yeah, ‘cos you told me that we needed to go the main street in the first place!” Sam retorted back, rolling his eyes towards his idiot of a brother.

 

“It doesn’t take that long to walk back. I’m sure!” Dean grimaced, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

 

Sam just smiled back and mumbled, “I am so glad we have someone else to tour us around here,” under his breath.

 

After, a rather interesting phone call to their family, in which Sam desperately tried to show off his French skills but in the end was just replied back in English, they managed to finally find their exchange family.

 

Well, a young man slumped against the station wall.

 

“Isn’t the whole family supposed to meet us?” Sam muttered towards Dean, spotting the young man.

 

“I don’t know- let’s just go ask him,” Dean responded, walking towards him at an increased pace.

 

He was wearing a pair of dark denim jeans that were fraying towards the ankles, as well as an odd combination of a navy hoodie, layered upon a white dress shirt and deep green t-shirt. Dean raised his eyebrow slightly at his strange attire, causing the young man to jerk off the wall.

 

“Hi there, I’m Dean Winchester,” Dean announced towards the young man, before gesturing towards Sam, “and that little sasquatch is my brother Sam,” he added, causing the man to grin slightly.

He held out his hand towards Dean, roughly shaking it before saying, “Hello, Dean. It’s nice to meet you two. I’m Castiel by the way.” His English was surprisingly fluent, even if his voice was tinged with a French accent.

 

“So you don’t mind us being hopeless at French?” Dean added, shoving his suitcase into Castiel’s car.

 

Castiel laughed slightly, before replying, “no, of course not. I can speak English well, don’t worry. And anyway I was anticipating this since I heard that two Americans were going to visit.”

 

“Hey, rude!” Dean joked back, before Sam interrupted the banter for a more formal conversation.

 

He gave a somewhat sorry look towards Castiel, apologising for his brother’s behaviour, before asking Castiel about the rest of his family.

 

“Oh yes, sorry about that,” Castiel explained, as he started the engine, “My Mum was going to meet you but she had some last minute arrangements to make,” Castiel added before stopping to ask, “have you heard about the kite festival held here yet?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean replied back, maybe a little too quickly, “I actually read about it on the plane journey here,” he added, causing Sam to pull a surprised expression. “It seems quite interesting,” Dean continued.

 

Castiel smiled back, “ah, that’s great. Well, my Mother is one of organisers for the event. We use our kite to raise money for my sister you see,” he explained.

 

“Why so?” Sam asked, turning his attention away from outside.

 

“She’s deaf,” Castiel disclosed, “the local hospital has supported us a lot when she was little, buying hearing aids and what not, so my Mum decided to set up a charity towards the hospital for any other deaf children in the area.”

 

“That’s really amazing,” Dean spoke, hoping that they could attend this event even more than he wanted before.

 

“Thank you,” Castiel smiled, before pulling up the drive of a small traditional property. “Anyway, we’re here,” he announced grabbing his keys. “I’ll show you guys to your room and then I’ve probably got to go help my mother again. Is that okay?” Castiel informed the boys as they pulled their up the cobbled driveway.

 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Dean reassured.

 

“I don’t think I’ll be long, so I’ll be back before dinner,” Castiel added unlocking their front door.

The first thing that greeted them was a small winding staircase, with a large array of shoes surrounding the bottom step. To one side there was a large wooden rack of shelves stuffed with books and odd-looking ornaments. To the other was a large door that Castiel told them led to their rather small kitchen.

 

“It’s nothing special,” Castiel stated, opening the door and letting the others peer around it. He noted Sam and Dean’s somewhat surprised expressions. “I guess, it’s quite different to America then?” he asked, with a small grin.

 

Sam snapped out of his awe, “not really, I guess. It’s just very- small,” he explained.

 

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Castiel laughed, before guiding them to their cozy living room. “Not all houses in France are like this though,” he informed, sitting on the nearest sofa, “we just live small cottage I guess.”

 

Dean smiled drawing in the surroundings, “I really like it,” he added while taking a seat next to Castiel. It had only been a short while since he was introduced to Castiel and his home, and yet he felt as if he’d known and been here for years, in a peculiar way. He was sort of dreading that all his hard work would be shattered by some standoffish household who would barely speak English. That him and Sam would have to spend two weeks in some tiny shed down the back of their yard. However, Dean soon realised how ridiculous he was being, in fact the family had been much kinder than he could ever imagine.

 

Once Castiel had showed them to their room, which, in honesty, was rather closet-like. He begged them goodbye and left themselves. Sam thought it quite strange that a family would be so trusting to let two foreign strangers into their home so nonchalantly, but Dean just took it for it was.

 

“It’s not as if we’re going to rob the place,” Dean laughed as he quickly threw his bag onto the top bunk, causing Sam to pout slightly, “it’s probably part of European culture, maybe their more lax than us Americans?” he added.

 

Sam sighed before replying, “yeah, I know, but we should still be careful. I don’t want some massive fine arrive through Mom’s door-”

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever Sasquatch,” Dean joked, jumping off the top bunk and starting to fold his clothes away.

 

Sam just rolled his eyes again.

 

*

 

Cas arrived quite a bit later than he once anticipated. His Mum had somehow found herself wrapped in some sort of last minute pub quiz, arranged by a few of locals. She said they were doing it to raise a few more cents for Eileen, so naturally Cas was dragged into it too. It was only when he was halfway through the second round that the realisation hit him.

“Mamman,” he whispered, bringing her attention away from the game, “we should probably get going now. I told the exchange students that I’d be back by-” he quickly checked his watch, “a long time ago,” he winced, grabbing his jacket.

 

“Castiel!” Naomi squaked back, quickly excusing herself, “why didn’t you let me know earlier? I was going to make them a nice local casserole,” she huffed, pulling a rather confused Eileen with her.

 

“Sorry, Ma,” Castiel bumbled back, “I honestly forgot myself.”

 

“What are they going to think of us?” Chuck chirped in, finally gaging the situation.

 

 _I’m sure they’ll be fine,_ Eileen signed back, always seeing the positive in things.

 

And of course, Sam and Dean were. Well as good as two young brothers could be. Sam had found a dusty looking French dictionary on the coffee table and was trying to teach himself some last minute new vocabulary, to which Dean just laughed and dug back into his cartoon.

 

It was around 16:45 when the family hastily unlocked the door. Castiel grimaced at the brothers slightly in a form of apology, to which his Mother expressed verbally.

 

“Hello, you two must be Sam and Dean,” she smiled, dumping her work onto the kitchen table and awkwardly brushing down her hair. Sam quickly, stood up to greet her introduce himself, to which Dean oafishly followed.

 

The older male with a face full of scruff, smiled towards the two, before holding out a strong hand, “I’m Mr. Novak, Castiel and Eileen’s Father,” pointing to the younger children, “and that’s my wife, Naomi. I’m sorry that would couldn’t meet you earlier, we got caught up in arrangements,” he explained.

 

Sam shaked his head, “no worries, Mr. Novak. Castiel explained to us earlier what you were doing for the community. I think it’s wonderful.”

 

Chuck smiled back, before adding, “Thank you- Sam, is it?” he asked to which Sam nodded back, “it’s something we are all quite passionate about. And you two can call me Chuck by the way, no need for overt formalities.”

 

“Thanks Chuck,” Dean grinned back, before Naomi ushered them into the kitchen.

 

To Sam and Dean having local cuisine was absolutely delicious- and Dean liked a lot of foods. He would even go to day that Naomi’s quick pasta dish was almost as good as Mary’s cherry pie. _That was definitely saying something._

 

Dean decided that he was most definitely going to enjoy stay here.

 

_It almost seemed like a fantasy._

*

 

It had been two days, since they’d moved in with the Novak family and not much had happened. Castiel had gave them quick tour of the main places in town, before disappearing off to school. Sam had brought the bread and milk this morning, to which he was extremely proud of himself for being understood.

 

_Je voudrais une baguette et 1l du lait, s’il vous plaît, ah-thank you very much._

 

Apart, from that they were just sort of existing.

 

Dean had, maybe stupidly, thought that they’d be doing exciting activities everyday, and well, sitting around in some town park wasn’t exactly his idea of thrilling entertainment. It was peaceful, I guess, just watching happy dog walkers pass by, while the birds chatted high in the branches. In many way, it was pleasant to have a break every once in while.

 

It was weird really, Dean felt as if he never really had a break. Like there was this small tic of danger tapping away at his head constantly. Like, he was on some grand mission _saving lives._

 

_But, he was just a college student-_

 

 _And those were just weird thoughts that he blocked to the furthest part of his brain for the most part, just like his sexuality in many ways_.

 

Dean wasn’t in France to sit and dismay though, he’d decided that this was supposed to be an adventure, and so he was going to try and make it one.

 

First though, he needed to find Sam. He swore he was just over there deep in some nerdy book as always, just a minute ago. Where was he?

 

“Sammy!” Dean called, pretending to not be completely freaking out right now.

 

Still no sign.

 

“Sammy!” he called again, this time with a little more urgency, causing a few odd looks from some resting locals.

 

Dean dodged around all the nearby trees trying to be as inconspicuous and calm as possible, before giving up the park and lightly jogging down the high street, peering into each café window in hope of seeing his lanky little brother ordering a coffee. Yet, there was still no sign, and Dean was really panicking now. Running through all the horrible scenarios he would have to explain to Mary in his head; how he’d probably never leave the house again, if anything dare happen to Sam. He’d started to make a small sprint back towards the park, in case he’d stupidly missed him, when he came crashing into a firm body.

 

“Oh god, sorry- I mean _pardon,”_ he fumbled, quickly removing himself from the figure and brushing his jacket down slightly. He was about to start running again, when he heard the young man laugh slightly.

 

“Dean?” he called, causing Dean to look up.

 

Shit, it was Castiel

 

“Are you okay?” he asked, fixing his school bag strap.

 

“Uhh-” Dean came up blank for some weird reason, feeling odd butterflies in his stomach.

 

“I’m just walking back home if you need-” Castiel injected, gesturing in front of him.

 

“Yes, sorry- have you seen Sam?” Dean interrupted, pulling himself out his weird stumble.

 

“Last time I checked he was at home, he said he was going out with you to the park?” Castiel answered, “why?”

 

“Aah, right yes,” Dean fumbled, _why was it so hard to form words all of a sudden?_ “He was with me a few minutes ago, but he just up and left and I can’t find him, so I’ve been looking all around-” Dean spilled, mushing all his thoughts into words.

 

Castiel put a hand to Dean forearm, jolting him to stop, “have you tried calling him?”

 

Dean blushed slightly, “that’s a good idea,” he replied, awkwardly bringing his phone out, causing Cas to laugh again, his face crinkling slightly as he smiled. Dean quickly called his brother, who, to his relief, picked up after the second ring, and avidly asked him where he was. Apparently, he’d gone back to the house with Eileen, after she finished school. He’d even told Dean, but he guessed he was too engrossed in his odd thoughts to have heard him.

 

“Everything okay?” Castiel inquired, after Dean had taken the call.

 

Dean sighed, “yeah, yeah. He’s back at the house with Eileen,” he informed, before bashfully feeling the need to explain himself, “I kinda overreact when it comes to Sammy, as you can probably tell. I wasn’t thinking straight,” he added, laughing to himself at the last comment, without really thinking, causing his face to turn a light shade of red.

 

_Why was he so flustered?_

 

Castiel didn’t comment on Dean’s awkwardness and instead, just stated that he was often the same when it came to Eileen. “It’s just an older sibling thing,” he commented, before adding, “that’s nice of him to walk back with her, though.  I normally do but I had to sort out the next school council meeting for tomorrow,” Castiel said, smiling towards Dean.

 

_So, Castiel was an amazing brother as well as class president? Could this guy get anymore perfect?_

 

_Wait where did that come from-_

 

Dean just fumbled a “yeah,” before walking back to the house with Castiel.

 

They found the pair, sitting side by side in front of the TV. Eileen was giggling wildy, as Sam tried to configure his hands into what looked like ‘ _Hello, my name is’_ in sign. Niomi was sitting in the far corner of the room, spinning a pen around in her fingers while trying to do a crossword, although she seemed to be distracted by the scene before her, smiling brightly towards her daughter and Sam.

 

All of Dean’s previous worry for Sam quickly dissipated into a large sigh of content, casting a quick grin towards Cas’ similar expression. He really needed to tone down the over-protectiveness sometimes.

 

That night, as the brothers laid staring to the ceiling, Dean teased Sam on his sudden interest in learning sign as well as French. Sam protested that he was just learning it because he felt it was important to communicate with Eileen in the most comfortable manner, which was most probably true, but Dean still found delight in mucking with his brother and his potential love life.

 

However, when Sam started to sleepily explain the many reasons why he thought Eileen was a really lovely person, even in the few short days he knew her, Dean pretended to ignore the way it reminded him of the odd fluttering feeling he’d felt earlier.

 

*

 

It wasn’t as if Dean was incompetent at functioning as a human, he just seemed to find himself in a few- _many_ awkward situations rather regularly. Normally, he could smoothly play them off. It was one of his many not so impressive talents that stopped him from being completely useless, in all honesty. However, this fantasy-like vacation had to end eventually, the joy of real life as it were, and it just so happened that it shattered that morning.

 

Dean had blamed it on his complete aversion to waking up early. He was feeling particularly groggy that morning and frankly wasn’t thinking straight.

 

_Cough._

 

With blurry eyes and the starting of a headache, he just so happened to fling the bathroom door open without thinking, only to be greeted to a half naked, slightly damp Castiel standing frozen in front of him, his hands mid-tying his toweled knot around his torso. Cas’ eyes quickly darted between Dean’s eyeline and his torso, before his hands quickly fumbled to tie the knot as tight as possible.

 

Dean knew he should have just closed the door then and there. Send a quick apology and never dwell on it again. But knowing Dean’s luck, his brain decided to just stay there. Not saying a word. Staring.

 

This continued for a few seconds, before Castiel awkwardly coughed and jolted Dean’s vision directly to the floor.

 

He grabbed the back of his neck and rubbed his hand roughly across it before mumbling quick, “I’m sorry, I’ll just go now-” but his mind hadn’t finished there, _god no,_ “maybe you should lock the door next time?” he added, raising his eyes to Cas again, with a rather cocky tone, causing the other to raise an eyebrow.

 

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he smirked back, before slightly bumping his shoulder against Dean’s side as he left, “it’s all yours.”

 

“Thanks,” Dean shakily replied, the sudden realisation of the previous situation hitting him around the face. He closed his eyes tightly in a desperate measure to try and rid the awkwardness from his mind, but it was stuck, leaving him to just rutt his head against the mirrored wall.

 

_What was that?_

 

_Can you just stop being so goddamn awkward for once, Dean!_

 

He also totally didn’t have the image of Cas’ bare chest ingrained into memory as he washed the suds from his hair. He wasn’t here to hook up, his stupid teenage hormones were just playing up, that’s all.

 

Since that incident, however, Dean caught himself staring towards Cas more times that was probably necessary for exchange partners. Suddenly, everything Castiel did seemed to be enhanced just that little more. Dean would find himself enticed by Cas’ little smile that would crinkle his nose slightly, whenever he was amused. Or he’d get this weird intense feeling of warmth whenever Cas helped his sister or some lost tourist on the street. It was like Castiel was masked in a rosy tint that made everything he did extra wonderful.

 

Dean had never felt this way about a person before and it was slowly starting to scare him. Of course, he’d had innocent middle school crushes on most guys and girls in his class, and several fruitful hookups with girls, who he thought were vaguely attractive in his drunken state, but he’d never experienced such a sudden and _serious_ interest someone before.

 

Towards his exchange partner of all people.

 

Castiel had rekindled some long repressed feeling that Dean had tried so hard to ignore over the years. Maybe it was inevitable ever since his Father’s passing , when he could truly find himself or some other clichéd bullshit. Or perhaps this was just the repercussion of several months of working at a gay bar. Whatever it was, Dean knew one thing at most; it left him terribly confused.

 

*

 

The brothers had spent their first week with the Novaks, and apart from Dean’s small sexuality crisis, things were running smoothly. Sam was absolutely loving it; drawing in the food and culture as if there was no tomorrow. He’d already stacked up an impressive seven-hundred photos on his camera, and his French skills were flourishing from the exposure. He’d even become pretty proficient in sign language as well, even though he wouldn’t dare let Dean know so much. He had huge respect for his brother for the most time, but he had this annoying tendency of knowing all of his hidden thoughts exactly. His slowly growing crush on Eileen was one of those frustrating things that Dean had managed to predict perfectly, albeit through brotherly teasing. He hoped that he’d just be able to keep it on the low and that perhaps Dean wouldn’t notice.

 

Of course, it failed miserably.

 

The second week of their holiday had just started, meaning that they were to go to the local school for a few days. Sam was ecstatic with the opportunity to experience a completely different school system and hopefully keep growing his confidence in French, which was growing in leaps and bounds might he add. But also because he could spend the whole day with Eileen, as they were to be in the same class. She’d happily agreed to guide Sam around the school and even introduced him to her friends at lunch.

 

Their company was wonderful, Sam finding himself in fitfulls of laughter even by the language barrier.

 

Back in classes, he didn’t feel awkward at all either. Eileen had gladly accepted Sam’s request to sit next to her, even if it caused a small side-eyes look from her current desk partner. Most of Sam’s teachers were very accepting of his attempts at conversing and were open to learning  about the differences between school here and school in America. Sam noticed that they were also extremely helpful towards Eileen’s needs, which sparked some weird sense of immediate respect for them.

 

Sam had only known Eileen for a week, and yet he already felt this urge to make sure she got the best treatment possible.

 

This week had been like he was back with his mates in America in many ways, although weirdly _better_.

 

Sam’s mind quickly ignored the blatant reason to this; the pretty brunette sitting close by him, before noticing Dean prying face coming towards him from across the field. He had an annoying teasing grin on his face, most probably meaning he had found something to torment Sam with. He silently prayed to a supposed God that Dean wouldn’t bring up his crush on Eileen, although he sadly knew it was inevitable.

 

“Hey Sammy!” Dean broadly cheered, hitting his brother’s shoulder slightly, “I see you’ve settled in nicely,” he added, purposefully waggling an eyebrow towards Eileen’s direction, causing a wave of giggles from the others around the table, that despite Dean’s English, cottoned on to the situation rather clearly. Poor Eileen sat there rather confused looking towards Sam for help, which only worsened the case, as Sam’s face quickly reddened. He could feel his brother’s smirk growing, even as he ducked his head to the grass.

 

However much Sam loved his brother, he could be a real asshole sometimes.

 

Once, the giggling had died down and Sam had awkwardly try to explain to Eileen that it was just playful sibling rivalry and therefore nothing to worry about, he spotted Castiel running up towards the table in a small fluster. He ran up to Dean’s side and tapped his shoulder to gain his attention. Dean jolted around to face him, as it looked like Cas was apologising for something. Dean smiled back, before placing a hand to Cas’ arm and mumbling what Sam swore was, “it’s okay, we can go there another time, yeah?” Castiel smiled and agreed back, before Sam decided to gain his revenge.

 

“Why aren’t you inviting me too, Dean?” he called rather obnoxiously, causing Dean to literally jump his attention over to his younger brother. Sam smirked to himself as he noticed Dean’s cheeks tainted with a blush. Castiel looked between them with a bewildered look, before quickly grasping on to what Sam heard. Sam swore he caught a slight glimpse of embarrassment flash across Cas’ face too, before he explained that he was just going to teach Dean some more French at the library during lunch but he got caught up, so they’d have to do it after school instead. Dean hastily agreed, before conveniently stating that they needed to get back to lessons.

 

That night, Dean didn’t speak a word about that lunch, or even ask Sam how his day had been like he usually did, instead he just buried himself in a comic and left Sam to sleep. Sam didn’t mind though because at least he knew that Dean and him were on the same boat now.

 

The odd boat of falling for your exchange partner.

 

*

 

It has been mid through a French culture lesson, with Mr. Van Coon, when Dean had turned to Castiel with his hopeful idea. The previous night, he’d thought long and hard about how to phrase it without it sounding like some sort of confession or _date._ It was just something Dean had been interested in since they’d got here, that’s all. And ever since Dean had learnt that it was all in raise for an amazing cause, the idea seemed even more plausible. Castiel had even said that the brothers should go, for God’s sake. Dean could totally pull this off. Even if, he wasn’t planning on inviting Sam (he was sure Eileen would invite him anyway). It would be completely chill and platonic; just an exchange partner showing a tourist the wonderful coastline and a special part of the town’s heritage.

 

Totally not a romantic beach date.

Much to Dean’s relief, Castiel gladly welcomed his idea and arranged for them to meet up together just after the main fundraising event had finished. Dean had promptly pushed down the flutter of butterflies that rose in his stomach, and mumbled, “that sounds great, I’m looking forward to it.” He’d then spent the rest of the lesson debating with himself on whether that sounded way too forward or not.

 

“Would you like to buy and design your own kite, then?” Castiel asked Dean over breakfast that next morning.

 

“Uhh- yeah, if that’s okay with you,” he responded back, mentally kicking himself for always sounding so feeble around Castiel.

 

“Yeah, of course that’s fine. I was actually hoping you’d say yes, in all honesty. The making of the kites is one of the best parts,” Castiel smiled back.

 

Which is where they found themselves spotted in paint, recovering from a fit of laughter over there quite dodgy decoration of their angel-winged kite. Dean didn’t know what compelled him to purchase the wings out of the huge array of other more conventional designs, but somehow they stood out to him. They seemed special and fit with Dean’s idea of Castiel with surprising accuracy.

 

Of course, Castiel didn’t mind though, liking the change from his usual orange, puffer-fish-shaped kite that he’d used for the past five years.

 

“I’m sure people won’t mind that the lines are slightly _wonky,”_ Castiel beamed.

 

“Yeah! When it’s high up in the sky they won’t be able to tell the difference anyway,” Dean added, causing Castiel to burst into laughter again. “What?” Dean questioned, “it’s not that funny!” he added, even though his giggles had started again.

 

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up whilst we leave this masterpiece to dry,” Castiel called eventually, after they’d both exhausted their laughter, pulling Dean from the grass by his forearm. Dean ignored the heat that rose from his touch, as they walked back into the house and started to scrub the excess paint off their skin.

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard whilst kite decorated before,” Castiel stated, still in a smiley haze.

 

“I mean I’ve never painted a kite before, so I’ll have to agree with you there,” Dean replied back, causing Castiel to slap him with the his towel slightly.

 

“I was trying to make a compliment,” Castiel added, rolling his eyes towards Dean in fake anger.

 

“Oh sorry,” Dean murmured back, suddenly flushed at the mention of Cas complimenting him and promptly killing the playful mood.

 

_Seriously? Since when did Dean Winchester: ultimate playboy, become this gushy?_

 

Since, an overtly attractive French boy waltzed his way into his life apparently.

 

*

 

The festival had been a huge success. Castiel’s parents had managed to raise an impressive €850 for Eileen’s charity. Their large blue octopus had been really impressive with many locals and tourists looking on in awe as it flew high through the wind, its eight rainbow streamers fluttering around in a colourful mess. It was definitely worthy of all the money they could raise.

 

There had been a record amount of kites from all around the world attending. The whole town was buzzing with excitement, as it’s beaches were filled with bright colours and interesting shapes and characters that twirled and danced around the sky. Dean recognised the huge appeal to this festival now. The kites has turned this sleepy Northern town into an almost magical fairytale.

 

Dean and Cas’ albeit rather sad looking masterpiece still managed to soar high and proud. By the end of the afternoon Dean soon got the hang out how to make it twirl elegantly through the sky under Cas’ instructions and many tangled strings later.

 

As the main event was drawing to a close, the pair were still darting across the sandy beaches chasing after their wings, one of them grasping the string to one wing and one the other. The intertwining of the kites with the air, reminded Dean of some sort of dance performance. In that moment, he was entranced by its simple beauty, and exceedingly happy with life for once. Here he was playing with kites and surrounded by loving people. It sounds quite simple when you look back on it, but yet those simple things were somehow the perfect combination to Dean’s joy.

 

 

_Yes, he was definitely in love. He’d never spurt clichés like that otherwise._

 

Soon enough, sun was slowly seeping into the horizon, creating a mix of purple and pinks hazes to filter the sky. The majority of the kites were being packed away save a few younger locals making use of the last of the wind. Cas had pulled the wings down from the sky and disappeared off to his parents instructing Dean to stay where he was on the sandy knoll. He didn’t mind though, as he was still in a state of awe at the beauty of the coastline, especially ually now twilight was upon it. The previous strong winds of the day had calmed down to a gentle, salty breeze and Dean could hear the calls of young children playing just around the corner along with the clanging of cutlery from the nearby seaside restaurants. He thought that in that moment he wouldn’t change anything for the world.

 

Sooner or later, Castiel came back clutching a wicker basket and patchwork quilt. He smiled towards Dean before asking him to help lay out the quilt onto the sand.

 

“Have you made a picnic or something?” Dean laughed, as the quilt flipped around the air slightly.

 

“Yeah, something like that,” Castiel replied plonking himself on to the ground. He opened up the wicker basket, before taking out a selection of fruits, pies and cakes along with four cans of beer.

 

“How did you know that I love pie?” Dean called, his mouth already watering at the sight of a large homemade cherry pie.

 

“I happened to notice that Mamman’s pie disappeared rather quickly ever since you’ve been here,” Castiel explained smirking, “go on take it. I brought all of this for you anyway,” he added causing Dean to bashfully cut himself a hearty slice.

 

“Thanks,” he quietly mumbled, before digging into the pie.

 

They stayed like that for a while, eating the various sweet goods and sipping on the cool beer.

 

At first it had been rather strange for Dean to taste the familiar alcohol flavour after having not drunk it for so long, but after a few sips the sweet memory came pleasantly back to him. He went through a phase of being completely adverse to it, after his Father’s blatant abuse of the substance. However, Dean had finally reached a stage where he could say that it was in the past now. The tranquil setting of the lapping waves and Cas’ pleasant company had made Dean decide that a beer wouldn’t be to much harm at all. He left safe around Castiel and knew that he wouldn’t allow Dean to converge into some drunken state. _Hell, it was only four cans._

 

The mixture of the light alcohol and sugar had just left Dean pleasantly warm. The world had taken on a golden tint as the last of the sun was slipping into the water. Dean placed both of his hands behind his back and leaned back onto his palms, closing his eyes to draw in the last of the day.

 

Suddenly, he felt a warm side pressed against his. He opened his eyes to face Castiel close to his side, who placed a rough palm over one of Dean’s hands. Dean felt a jolt of electricity at the touch, but welcomed it, moving there positions to intertwine their fingers, just like the streamers of the kites earlier.

 

Their faces were only mere inches apart now and Dean could feel Cas’ breath dance on his skin. They were both looking intently into each other’s eyes with hooded eyelids.

 

_“Le vent nous portera,” Cas whispered._

 

Dean stared back with a puzzled expression, causing Cas to grin back. “The wind will carry us,” he repeated, this time in English, before Darting his eyes down to Dean lips. Before they knew it Dean had closed the gap between them.

 

Out of the many kisses Dean had experienced, none of them came quite as close to this one. It was strange really, like Castiel was always meant to be, like Dean had spent years building up to this moment.

 

Dean closed his eyes, and waiting for the kiss to deepen, but it never came. Instead an intense black blanket smothered his vision and he felt himself suddenly slipping out of consciousness.

 

_Two worlds were shifting and interlacing together._

 

_Dean tried to clutch onto his reality but something was holding him back._

 

_“Cas!” He shouted, although it came out as nothing more than a whisper._

 

_“Cas!” He repeated with more urgency._

 

_“Why aren’t you here!”_

 

_*_

 

Dean groggily opened his eyes and tried to make sense of the disstorted world around him. His brother was clutching his side closely, a look of panic seared upon his face.

 

“Dean! Dean, are you okay?” He called waving a hand across Dean’s vision in an attempt to get him to respond.

 

Sam expected Dean to reply with a “yes, I’m fine, Sammy, ” or maybe even a “what just happened?” but “where’s Cas?” was somewhat unexpected.

 

Dean scrambled away from his brother’s grasp, sitting up straight and rubbing his head with his fingers.

 

“Cas?” Sam echoed, taken aback at his brother’s outburst. “You were just with him? You went out for a case a few hours back and saw him working at the local _Gas ‘n Sip._ Apparently, he still was going MIA under this whole Metatron deal, so you just left him. Dean, you just told me like ten minutes ago! Then you just fainted on me,” Sam continued, growing in concern at his brother’s state.

 

“What?” Dean murmured. He could have spent that he was just on a beach in France kissing Castiel ten minutes ago, _not_ explaining to his much older and _taller_ brother about a case- _what case?_

 

_And who the hell was Metatron?_

 

“Metatron? You know the evil angel guy that played all of us and made Cas human!” Sam called back, his voice thick with concern.

 

Dean had said that aloud then.

 

“Dean, are you sure you’re okay?” Sam repeated, as his brother didn’t respond.

 

 _What! Angels?_ Dean thought, his headache quickly growing in intensity.

 

_And he thought Cas has always been, most definitely, human._

 

Memories of angel-winged kites dancing around a salty sky, flashed through his mind for a mere second, as Dean pulled himself up to standing. He stumbled a little trying to find his balance, causing a still very concerned Sammy rush over and grab his arms again.

 

“I think you should sit down for a while,” Sam instructed, guiding Dean to the nearest leather chair.

 

Dean batted away Sam’s touch, as he determinedly called back, “no, I need to find Cas.”

 

“I’ll call him, yeah?” Sam stated.

 

“I need to talk to him!” Dean called back, his voice becoming almost whiny.

 

“Right. Okay,” Sam said back more to himself than anything, “you can talk to him too, of course,” he added still trying to get Dean to sit down.

 

But Dean was beginning to lose his patience. Only a few minutes ago was he young and in love on some French beach, watching the day turn into night, and now he was middle-aged, stuck in some sort of dimly, lit bunker, and terribly confused. Why didn’t Sam understand? He was there too.

 

“No, no!” Dean shouted this time, “why can’t you understand? I need to _talk_ to him!”

 

Sam gulped slightly, watching on as his brother turned almost hysterical. He flung himself towards Dean and grabbed onto his forearms for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few minutes.

 

“Okay, I’m going to call him now, yeah? And let him know that you want to meet him,” Sam explained on his best calming voice.

 

Dean stared back into his eyes, before taking a step back and breathing out heavily, as if he was suddenly coming back into the real world.

 

Sam lowered his hands and pulled out his phone, quickly fumbling to find Castiel’s contact. However, he was startled by a large crashing sound coming from behind him, causing him to promptly drop his phone and whip out his pistol from his back holster.

 

He quickly turned around ignoring Dean’s very startled look at the sudden arrival of guns to the situation, only to find a very smug-looking Gabriel with his hands lamely up in the air, staring back at him.

 

Sam cocked his gun, towards him, ordering him to explain this madness.

 

“Hey Sammy! It’s really me, trust me. You’ve had enough resurrections to understand that death is pretty futile,” Gabriel proclaimed, hands still held up to the sky. Sam yet again ignored Dean’s growing look of horror.

 

“What have you done to him?” Sam snapped back, gesturing to his awestruck brother.

 

“I sent to him one of my best universes yet!” Gabriel smiled jokingly.

 

“Seriously-” Sam interjected, cocking his gun again.

 

“Yes, big scary gun that can’t hurt me, all very well,” Gabe called back, as Dean’s mouth fell open wider. “I’ll fix him in a moment,” he added, Sam glaring. “He’ll be fine, he’s still got his alternate memories is all. He kinda needs them for my plan to work, you see?”

 

“Plan?” Sam angrily called.

 

“Yes, plan. Plan to get your idiot brother to realise his obvious feelings for _my_ idiot brother,” Gabe continued.

 

“What?” both of the brothers parroted.

 

“Oh come on guys! Everyone Heaven, Earth and Hell has cottoned on to your ultimate pining saga! Our good friend Dean-io was just too caught up in his own repression to release otherwise. So, I wanted to help. An idyllic, French holiday with a romantic beach date seemed perfect. Rile it up with teenage hormones and _voila!_ You’ve got yourself a sparked relationship,” Gabriel explained, with Sam finally lowering his gun.

 

Dean looked on with growing disappointment as his real memories, came trickling back to him. His brain was finally putting the pieces together. “So you’re telling me,” he stumbled, his voice cracking slightly, “that none of that was true. The holiday, the family, the kites-” he stopped himself.

 

Gabriel noticed the stern change in mood and apologetically replied “yes. I’m sorry Dean,” back.

 

“I-I need to see Cas,” Dean repeated, already walking towards the door.

“Wait, Dean!” Gabe called, rushing over and tapping his head. “You should be fine now,” he added, before smirking slightly. “You might want this,” he added, placing a dodgily painted, angel-winged kite into Dean’s hands. There was a flutter of wings and then he was gone, leaving Dean confused yet determined.

 

*

 

Dean had rushed back to the _Gas ‘n Sip_ in record time, just before they were closing up the store. He’d spotted Castiel dressed in his _Steve_ caricature, wiping at the counter with a dejected look upon his face. It sent a sharp pain of guilt right to Dean’s heart, compelling him to fling the door wide open and explain to Castiel his mistakes in hurried apology.

 

Castiel had been extremely startled at first, as his kept pressing on to Dean that he was fine here and that he understood why he had to leave. However, Dean knew better now. The alternate Cas had been so happy and he couldn't stand to see _his_ Cas looking so distraught.

 

So Dean had confessed. All the waiting of the past five years spilling out of his mind at a record rate. Castiel had been obviously taken aback at first, but soon responded back, finally agreeing to come with Dean back to the bunker; where he _belonged._

 

The night was nearly upon them, so once they got back to the bunker, Dean quickly grabbed a few beers from the fridge and guided Castiel to top of the bunker, which was covered in a grassy knoll and overlooked the sun set nicely. _It was perfect,_ Dean thought, looking down to the angel-winged kite clutched in his other hand.

 

He was going to replicate that moment on the beach, although this time _for real._

 

He found Castiel sitting rather sternly on the grass, with his cute confused expression plastered on his face. Dean quickly placed himself next to him and opened up two cans of beer for them both.

 

Cas sipped it for a while, as they both watched the sinking sun set earlier, before he turned towards Dean and asked, “what you said earlier, what is true?”

 

Dean turned to face him back, feeling somewhat at ease that he’d already practiced this moment, “of course, Cas. I would never lie about something like that,” he explained, edging his face closer to the once angel.

 

Castiel’s eyes gleamed slightly at that information before he added, “I feel the same way too Dean. I have for a long time.”

 

His eyes darted to Dean’s lips, although got distracted by the kite laying beside him. He reached over Dean to hold it up. “What’s this?” he asked, running his fingers over the fabric.

 

“It’s a kite. Every year in a small French village they fly these at a festival with thousands of others from all around the world,” Dean explained before looking towards the wings clasped around Cas’ fingers, “I saw it a few days ago, something to do with a case. The angel wings made me think you, so I bought it.”

 

Castiel’s hands stopped to look up to Dean again.

 

“It’ll carry us,” Cas murmured, “through the wind.” Dean’s heart did an odd flip as it reminded him of what the other Cas had said. They were the same person I suppose.

 

“Le vent nous portera,” Dean echoed, before closing the gap between the two for the second time that day and kissing him sweetly.

 

However, this time it was most definitely real, and Dean hoped it would last a lifetime.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments :)
> 
> My Tumblr: @sunristiel


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